


Blood Will Tell

by Attalander



Series: The Phoenix Wright Vampire AU [2]
Category: Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Basassery, Castlevania References, Chopsticks, Evil plots, First Kiss, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, Swordfights, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampire Bites, Vampire Hunters, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-17
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 18:23:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attalander/pseuds/Attalander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things have gotten complicated. Phoenix Wright, defense attorney-turned-vampire, has been living with his friend-turned-rival-turned-blood-donor for a few weeks now, and each of them is hiding his own secrets and desires. Meanwhile, both of their friends are worried and assuming the worst, a villainous plan is brewing, and nobody can seem to grasp the right end of the stick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Miles Edgeworth rolled over in bed and felt around for the irritatingly loud classical music playing near his left ear. It took the prosecutor longer than he would've liked, but he managed to find, then disable, the clock radio and stumble out of bed.  
  
More by feel than by sight, he stumbled into the kitchen and put on a pot of tea before heading to the bathroom. Sighing, he turned on the light, picked up his razor and brought it to his face.  
  
"Morning, Miles."  
  
"Waaa— Wright!" The fair-haired man jumped, the razor slipping and cutting into his cheek. turning, he glared at the other man. "You did that on purpose!"  
  
"Hardly." The dark-haired man was standing at the other side of the relatively spacious bathroom, sleeves rolled up and clutching a toilet brush. "I was in here already... you were just too blind to see me. No contacts yet?"  
  
"I just got up." He hazily surveyed the other man, frowning. " _Must_ you constantly clean that thing, Wright? In the dark? I mean, you don't even use it."  
  
The attorney grinned toothily and shrugged. "Force of habit, I guess. By the way..." He walked up to the other man and ran a finger across his cut cheek, bringing it to his lips. "I thought I told you to call me by my first name. We are cohabiting after all."  
  
Miles jumped slightly at the contact (those hands were cold), then glared at the vampire. "I object to the word 'cohabiting'. It implies... physical involvement."  
  
Wright rolled his eyes. "Ok, how's 'living together'?"  
  
"Even worse." He shook his head, then looked up to see Wright staring at his cheek. The prosecutor sighed and brushed his bangs away. "Oh, fine... help yourself."  
  
Wright leaned over and ran his tongue over Miles's face. The pale man had to suppress a shiver... and almost missed Wright's next words.  
  
"How about 'roommates'?"  
  
"Rejected." Wright pulled back and raised an eyebrow. "It implies that we share the rent. Not that I'd mind..."  
  
"Hey! You supply the money and the blood, I take out the garbage." The vampire frowned. "Speaking of work, the office doesn't even open for another three hours! Isn't it a little early?"  
  
Miles just shrugged and went back to shaving. Wright hovered for a little while longer, then left the room. He waited a few minutes to be sure that the other man was gone, then sagged against the sink, gasping. 

 _Whatever happens, I can't let Wright find out..._  He splashed cold water on his face, trying to reinforce the thought with the icy shock.  _Even if it kills me!_

  
\------  
  
 _Our relationship... is what exactly?_  
  
Phoenix had a lot of free time on his hands these days. Neither having to sleep nor eat nor work, he soon discovered that even compulsive cleaning of the bathroom would not kill the time until Miles came home... so he found himself spending an inordinate amount of time just stretched out on the couch or the bed, thinking. 

 _Predator and prey? No, he lets me bite him... And it's not symbiosis either, because he doesn't really get anything out of the arrangement. Does that make me some kind of... parasite?_  
  
He sat up suddenly, not wanting to be confronted by the disturbing mental image of a spiky-haired tapeworm. He started to pace around the room like some kind of caged beast... a trapped, frustrated hunter. He paused outside the bathroom, smiling slightly at the memory of earlier that morning.  _Miles is so cute when he's flustered... heh, who am I kidding? He's cute all the time._  
  
There was the crux of the problem... Miles Edgeworth. Phoenix had been carrying an undeniable torch for the other man for fifteen, going on sixteen years now. Unfortunately, the prosecutor had never been particularly demonstrative, even during their childhood... and these days he kept his emotions locked behind a disdainful mask even in his own house.  
  
 _If only I knew how he felt about me..._  Phoenix, frustrated, peered into the bathroom mirror and ran a hand through his spikes. _Even whether he's gay or straight or bi or whatever... that would be something. Sure, the guy dresses in pink but that's hardly enough to go on, especially since he might turf me out if I get this wrong._  
  
Giving up on his hair, Phoenix stalked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He felt a little nervous, snooping around like this, but his detective skills had never yet led him wrong... and besides, spying was justified if it could help him figure out what to do about Miles. the only other option he could think of was actually asking the other man and sniffing for a lie.  _Welcome home Miles, are you homosexual?_  

Even in his head it sounded incredibly stupid... and if he creeped Miles out, it was goodbye to his happy land of free meals and no rent.

  
He turned to the chest of drawers first, remembering how he had hid his diary in a sock drawer when he was a kid. Unfortunately, there was nothing concrete secreted among the man's clothes... though the Italian designer boxers had given him hope. Next came the armoire, the nightstand, under the pillow. Finally, as he was peering under the bed, the vampire managed to drag out a large blue trunk labeled with the other man's name. It was locked.  
  
He grinned like a shark.  _Jackpot!_  Grabbing the padlock, he prized it open with a grunt of effort. Pushing the lid back, he peered into the box. Some German paperbacks, a bunch of DVDs, other odds and ends... and a huge stack of magazines. He stared at the magazines, his throat dry as a bone.  
  
 _Lesbische Liebe_ , they were called, and on the covers....  
  
"Well, crap."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Lesbische Liebe_ = my bad German for "Lesbian love"


	2. Chapter 2

"My poor, abused paycheck..." Detective Gumshoe whimpered as he emerged from the Demon Persecutor's office, trying not to think of the bare eternity of instant noodle hell that stretched before him. Luckily (or not) he was distracted, pounced on by a very agitated Maya Fey.  
  
"WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT ABUSED?!?" She was wild-eyed, clutching his shoulders in a death-grip so he was forced down to her eye level. He had a brief mental image of being devoured by a purple-robed teenage tigress, before Hannah Fright appeared and pulled her off.   
  
"Maya, calm down!" the secretary said.  
  
"Yeah, slow down, pal!" Gumshoe was shaking in his... well... shoes. He stared at the spirit medium, then at Hannah. "What's got her so upset?"  
  
Hannah bit her lip, then pulled Maya and Gumshoe into the alcove where her desk sat. "It's Mr. Edgeworth... there's something strange going on with him." Her eyes darted back and forth and she lowered her voice so the others had to lean in. "First, he calls in sick for the first time in a year and a half... then he comes in with this gigantic bruise on his neck. Every day since then, his neck's just gotten more and more bruises... and today, he has a cut on his cheek. He says he cut himself shaving, but—"  
  
Maya cut in. "Nick also started acting strange a few weeks ago, he also had a neck bruise, and now he's disappeared somewhere! Sure, he left a phone message saying he'd gone to stay with his parents—"  
  
"—but I looked it up and Mr. Wright's parents have been dead for eight years," Hannah finished up. She and Maya looked expectantly at the detective.  
  
"Sooooooo... you think Mr. Wright and Mr. Edgeworth are in some kind of trouble? Someone's hurting 'em, that what you think, pal?" He scratched his stubbled chin thoughtfully.  
  
"The only problem is, we've tried, but we can't contact Nick or get Mr. Edgeworth to talk to us. Any ideas?"  
  
Gumshoe started shaking, his hand moving slowly from his chin to his pocket as sweat broke out on his face. "There's one person... who can get the truth out of Mr. Edgeworth."  
  
Hannah stated shaking too as Gumshoe pulled a battered cheap cell phone out his coat pocket and dialed with painful slowness. Maya clenched her fists and nodded once as the man brought the phone to his ear. "Time to bring out the big guns."

He nodded, shakily, and pulled up the number for Franziska von Karma.  
  
\-----  
  
For some reason, Miles couldn't concentrate. One moment, it was the cut on his cheek that ached, the next moment his perpetually half-healed bite wound stared itching. Or maybe the cause of his distraction was the fact that the current case he was working on was probably the most ridiculous open-and-shut case he'd ever seen.

 _The woman has her fingerprints all over the murder weapon, the victim was her cheating ex, and we have three separate eye witnesses. Nobody could turn this one around, not even Wright.... well, maybe Wright could, but not some rookie with the ink on his diploma still wet._ The corner of his mouth twitched, almost feeling sorry for his opponent for once. Almost.  
  
Still, easy victory aside, Miles couldn't even focus on the sweet prospect of a court case that wasn't all tangled up. His head drooped until it was cradled in his hands, elbows resting on his desk...  
  
 _... so tired...  
  
Pull yourself together, Miles. The only way to avoid the nightmares is to go to bed exhausted, you know that..._  Relaxation was the enemy, weakness only let the fear back in... even after Wright had found out the truth, even after he'd been absolved of his father's murder, the nightmares kept coming. Before, he'd just gone to bed at a normal hour and gotten gradually used to waking in the night in a cold sweat... but that was before Wright had moved in.   
  
Waking up to find Wright standing over him, that look of unadulterated concern on his face... it had been almost more disturbing than the dreams themselves. Those, Miles was used to. Having someone else nearby... he hadn't lived in such close proximity to another human being since his college days, and he wasn't sure he liked it. His dreams, pleasant or not, were an intimate part of him. For someone else to witness one... He grasped a half-empty teacup and downed the contents.   
  
 _That's another thing that's changed..._ He made a face as he tasted the sugar content of his usually-black-as-night beverage. However, the repeated blood loss had given him the most ridiculous craving for sweet things. Glaring at the empty teacup, the prosecutor set it down on the saucer and pushed it away, getting to his feet and sweeping out of the office. He needed air, he decided.   
  
"Miss Fright, I'm going for a—" He stopped, eyebrows knitted... Hannah wasn't at her post. The desk was empty. Well, maybe she had to look something up. Pushing fair hair out of his eyes, Miles jotted down a quick message on his secretary's notepad, then walked straight to the stairwell, ignoring the elevator as he had since his first day in the office, five years before.  
  
Having no particular destination for his walk, Miles found himself wandering aimlessly. He wasn't acting like himself at all, he realized... there was something deeply wrong with him that he couldn't identify. So lost was he in his own thoughts that he didn't even realize that he was being followed until he felt someone grab him, clamping a rough hand over his mouth.  
  
 _I'm being mugged?_ He wanted to kick something as he was dragged into an alley. _Things just keep getting better and better._ Someone was reaching into his back pants pocket while other hands pinioned his arms and held his mouth shut.   
  
"Hold still, and we won't hurt yah... got it?" From the feel of the man's breath, his head was directly positioned behind Miles's own.   
  
He shrugged, then slammed one italian leather shoe up and out, striking the man who held his arms, while his head smashed backwards. He felt something crack under the impact of his head, and heard a curse as the hands loosened.   
  
Feet pounding, Miles made a break for the street. He was just at the mouth of the alley, turning to make a witty parting statement, when he felt something strike him across the back of the head. Stars danced in front of his eyes as he toppled to the ground like a fallen tree.  _Three of them... must've had a lookout... stupid...._


	3. Chapter 3

The back of his head was sticky, with his blood or that of the man whose nose he'd broken, Miles couldn't tell. He was watching three pairs of scuffed boots approach (one limping), heard curses he couldn't quite make out...  
  
His fading consciousness was suddenly bolstered, however, when a fourth pair of boots slammed into the ground right in front of his eyes, spraying dust into his face. The curses turned to yells, and Miles struggled to one elbow, staring at the spectacle unfolding in the alley.   
  
Three men in nondescript attire (one limping, one with part of a board held like a club, the third with a bloody nose) were facing off against a figure covered head to toe in a grey coat, gloves, sunglasses, and a balaclava. The newcomer moved with astonishing speed and an almost equally surprising lack of skill and finesse.  _Must've been hit harder than I thought..._  He blinked.  _Is that **my**  trench-coat?!?_  
  
Wright, for it could be nobody else, was swinging his fists wildly. Every strike seemed to go wider than the last, leaving his stance weak and his core completely open to attack. All in all, only one thing kept the scene from being the most embarrassing example of how _not_ to fight Miles Edgeowrth had ever witnessed, and that was Wright's speed. Despite the inaccuracy of almost every attempted blow, the laws of probability dictated that at least a few would actually hit something.  
  
It was over quickly. The two already injured men scampered for the street after one of Wright's lucky shots sent the third mugger flying ten feet into a dumpster at the back of the alley. Wright glanced at the form, ascertained that it was groaning and therefore still alive, before offering hand to the prone prosecutor. "You OK, Miles?"  
  
"No." He took the hand and got unsteadily to his feet. "You could have arrived before they hit me."  
  
Wright's balaclava moved as though he were raising his eyebrows behind the wool. "Actually, I couldn't have. I came because I smelled your blood."  
  
If he were anyone else, Miles's jaw would probably have dropped. Instead, he settled for an incredulous look. "Smelled me? From where? My house is nowhere near here."  
  
"A few streets away. I was taking a walk." Wright fiddled nervously with his sunglasses. "Well, a stalk actually. Being penned up makes me restless these days."  
  
"Who were you stalking?" Miles tried to sound as conversational as possible as he dusted himself off.  
  
Wright shrugged. "Nobody, really. Had to humor the predator instincts, don'tcha know?" His balaclava moved as though in a wry grin. "Well, maybe you don't. Anyway, I wasn't planning on doing any biting... just thinking."  
  
"For once in your life," Miles muttered under his breath.  
  
Suddenly, Wright's head jerked up as though he'd heard something. He turned, peering back into the darkness of the alley... out of which hurtled the last of the muggers. He looked wild, blood running from one corner of his mouth, and from somewhere he seemed to have produced a switchblade. He lunged at Miles with a fierce yell.  
  
Wright moved like lightning, leaping forward and grabbing for the man. A flurry of motion, too fast for Miles to comprehend... and Wright had his fangs buried in the man's neck. He bit down, hard causing his victim to scream in a high-pitched wail. Wright twisted his head a little, and the man went limp.  
  
Miles could only stare as the vampire dropped his victim, hands shaking, then leaned away and spat. "Disgusting. Some kind of drugs in his system..." He looked at the prosecutor, who stood openmouthed and staring. Quickly, the vampire knelt to check his victim, then bind the wound with gauze. "Don't worry, Miles. I hardly took any... he'll live. Miles?"  
  
The grey-eyed persecutor wasn't staring at the fallen assailant. He was staring at the knife sticking out of Wright's ribs.   
  
Wright's eyes followed his gaze.  
  
"Oh..." He swayed. "Why didn't I notice that..?"  
  
\-----  
  
Maya gazed around at the posse they'd assembled, feeling pleased with herself. There was Hannah, looking frightened yet determined and clutching her purse. Seated beside her was Dick Gumshoe on the left and Larry Butz on the right (no wonder the woman looked nervous). Ema Skye had her notebook and pen, while Franziska had arrived carrying a large turquoise designer tote. It was a gallery of the people who cared about Miles Edgeworth... his friends, if only the man would allow them to be. Only Phoenix was missing, but he was the other person they were trying to rescue (Wendy Oldbag wasn't there either, but Maya seriously doubted that the prosecutor would thank them for bringing her).   
  
"Listen closely, I do not wish to repeat myself." Franziska stood, looking regal as a queen and twice as intimidating. "From what Miss fey has reported to us, I believe I know what we're up against." She looked around, then smiled slightly. "I believe we have a vampire on our hands."  
  
The dramatic pronouncement didn't have quite the effect Franziska was clearly anticipating. Larry burst out laughing, while Hannah and Maya exchanged glances. Gumshoe just looked blank, while Ema gave Franziska a disgusted look. "You do understand that vampires are a scientific impossibility, don't you?"  
  
Franziska snarled something in German, (probably regardeing "foolish fools") and pulled something out of her bag, tossing it onto the table. It clattered across the wooden surface, coming to a halt as everyone stared at... a tooth necklace?  
  
"My father was Manfred von Karma, a prosecutor. My mother, however, was the one of the Belmont line of Romania. Vampire hunters." She gestured at the grisly string of beads. "Those are the trophies of her battles, every one a perfect victory."  
  
Ema slowly reached forward and picked up the object, its three-dozen ornaments clinking together like some obscene wind chime. She examined them closely, her eyes wide. "As far as I can tell without more advanced equipment... these are genuine. Exactly like human canines, only about twice as long." She touched a finger to one fang's point, and cut herself without even needing to press down.  
  
"All the signs point to Vampire activity. A woman arrived at the Hotti Clinic a few weeks ago with bite marks on her neck and moderate blood loss. Mr. Phoenix Wright starts sporting marks on his neck and then mysteriously disappears... and now my brother also appears to have been bitten. But, just to be sure..." She turned to Hannah, who squeaked slightly under the glare of those turquoise eyes. "Has my brother been drinking sugar in his tea?"  
  
"Uh... now that I think about it..." Hannah looked positively terrified as she scrabbled for an answer. "Yes! Normally he takes his tea black, but he's been demanding sugar these past few weeks."  
  
"Common response to blood loss." Franziska's lip curled. "I suspect our leech might very well be feeding off my brother... probably holding that foolish defense attorney as a hostage to ensure his good behavior, too." She picked up her bag, placing it on the table and opening it wide. An assortment of stakes, crosses, and what looked like cloves of garlic were bared to view.  
  
"Come," she smiled grimly at her wide-eyed audience, "it's time to hunt!"


	4. Chapter 4

"OHHHHHMYGOD,  _Miles, that hurts!!"_  
  
"Quit squirming, Wright, I haven't even touched it yet. You didn't even flinch when you were stabbed!" The fair-haired man looked quite put-out at him, glaring down at the patient sprawled across his bed for the second time.  
  
Phoenix glared back, face pale with pain. "That was because of the adrenaline rush. You'd be still, would you, if you got shivved in the ribs?"  
  
Miles handed him a folded washcloth, which Phoenix gripped in his teeth. Reaching down with a look of extreme concentration, Miles yanked the blade out with one fluid motion. Phoenix arched, clenching his teeth until he felt the fabric under his fangs rip apart from the stress. The pain was excruciating, a terrible sharp burning altogether different from the bruised ache he'd had after falling five stories.  
  
As the pain started to recede, he realized Miles was speaking. "Wha- what was that?"  
  
"I _said,_ " Miles's voice was an ice-cold snarl, "that I would have been _very_  still if I was the one to be stabbed. Probably because I'd be  _dead_." He leaned over and started binding Phoenix's wound with gauze, his fair hair was falling forward, obscuring his face. "When are you going to stop pulling stunts like this? You've been stabbed, tasered, poisoned, accused of murder twice, and tried to commit suicide via parking garage and chopstick!"  
  
"M-Miles-" Phoenix didn't even know what he was going to say, but it didn't matter because the other man cut him off.  
  
"How long before you actually get yourself killed? Do you have  _any_  regard for your own personal safety you moronic  _lackwit!?!?_ " Miles was warming to the subject, his voice rising in volume and pitch until it nearly cracked on the last word. He was glaring at Phoenix as he tied off the bandage with an angry yank on the knot.   
  
Phoenix started to flush, glaring indignantly at the other man. "I didn't do any of those thing on purpose! Well... the attempted suicides maybe-- but I fail to see how _any_ of the rest of it counts as 'stunts'! Besides, who are _you_ to talk about being accused of murder?" Phoenix was also yelling now, his face thrust in close to the other man's, their noses barely inches apart. "And as for being tasered? And getting stabbed? I was _trying_ to save your life! Pardon me if the great Miles Edgeworth is too proud to owe his life to someone like me!!!"  
  
"That's the whole problem!!  _DO YOU THINK I COULD LIVE IF YOU DIED FOR ME!?!?!_ "  
  
"Well, _you_ had _better_ just-" Wait a second... "Wait,  _what_  did you say?"  
  
\-----  
  
 _Yes, what **did**  I just say?_ Miles stood, dumbstruck, for a moment. _Did I mean that?_

Miles admittedly had no instant desire to retract the statement, though he did feel his anger dissipate from shock.  
  
"I said that... that..."  
  
"That you couldn't live if I..." Wright licked his lips as though they'd suddenly done dry. He gave a forced-looking smile. "Well, if it comforts you, I'm technically already dead. It wouldn't make much difference if—"  
  
"Don't even joke about that, Wright." He was more nervous than he could ever remember being, not wanting to take anything back but terrified to go on, to say something wrong. Still, despite not even knowing what he was going to say next, he needed to keep talking. "You always treated me like a person... someone who deserved to live and be happy—no matter what I did to you or anyone else. When I thought I'd lost you today, I felt like I'd lost some... some vital part of myself."  
  
"Wait, are you saying..." Wright was moving closer, until Miles could feel his breath like a breeze on his upper lip. "... What I think—"  
  
Miles didn't even understand why the other man had cut off until he realized that his hand had moved to Wright's chin... and then he was moving the last few centimeters. Wright's lipswere slightly cool, but not unpleasantly so, as they brushed against his.   
  
Wright was still for a long moment, long enough to make Miles worry. If he'd thought about this, he would definitely have done it differently, not left himself so vulnerable...  
  
Then Wright's hand was on the back of his head, pulling him closer and deeper into the kiss, and his regrets shattered into nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

It was Wright who broke the kiss, pulling away suddenly like he'd been stung.  
  
"What's wrong?" _OhgodwhatifImessedupit'snotasifI'veeverkissedanyonebeforeandIprobablydiditallwrong—_  
  
"L-Lesbians!" Wright blurted out.  
  
 _All right, now I'm thoroughly confused.._. "Wright, are you insane?!? What are you talking about?"  
  
"You can't be gay, what about th-those magazines?" When Miles looked blank, he elaborated. "The german lesbian porn? Under your bed, blue box, hundreds of magazines? Ring any bells?"  
  
Miles suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to hit his head against something. "You mean the  _turquoise_  steamer trunk labeled with the words: ' _Miles Edgworth, open this and risk an extremely painful death?'_   I'm keeping it for Franziska, you prying idiot! Why were you looking in there, anyway?" _I_ _bet he didn't even get past my name, if he read the label at all._

Wright ruffled his hair, looking sheepish. "I just—I've had feelings for you for a long time, but I wasn't sure if you liked men, let alone me. I just wanted to be sure..."

  
"So you break into my foster-sister's possessions. You really do have a deathwish."  _Why the hell am I finding this ridiculous idiocy so endearing?_  He leaned forward, hesitating slightly before he wrapped his arms around the other man.  
  
Wright flinched at the contact. Miles pulled away, feeling somehow offended. Then he looked down and saw that he'd been pressing right on the gauze over Wright's injury. The bandage had acquired a crimson tint as Wright's blood started to soak through it.  
  
"Sorry, Wright, I forgot. Your blood levels... how are they?"  
  
"Honestly?" Wright looked a little wan, but he smiled. "I'm not as bad off as that first time, but I did lose quite a bit—I'm pretty hungry."  
  
Miles sighed and shrugged off his jacket. "And when were you planning on telling me this?"  
  
"You seemed to be otherwise engaged—happily so, might I add." Wright got up and removed Miles's cravat while the prosecutor handled his shirt and vest. It was routine by now, a precaution against getting bloodstains on Miles's expensive clothes, but this time was different. Wright's hands took every opportunity to brush against his skin, and Miles was acutely aware of every time those cool fingers made contact with his neck.  
  
When Miles had stripped to the waist, he wrapped his arms slowly around the other man's bare back (well above the stab wound). Wright grasped his shoulders, pulling him into a brief, chaste kiss. Wright's lips moved slowly, starting from Miles's own and kissing down the side of his face and neck until they reached the point halfway down, where his pulse beat closest to the surface.   
  
 _Trust_. Being bitten by Wright was probably the closest Miles had ever come to physical intimacy... leaving himself completely in another person's hands. He knew that any of their sessions could result in his death, but the risk felt completely remote. _I trust him with my life._  
  
Wright bit down, sharp teeth sliding into flesh and skin. Miles cried out, loudly, as pain that he would never get used to stabbed through him. He felt the other man's grip tighten, almost in apology, but the pain had already receded to a bearable level. He squeezed back, reassuring. The pain held an almost sweet note to it, straddling the fine line between agony and ecstasy... leaving Miles to wonder whether he was a masochist or if Wright's fangs held some kind of chemical or drug. For some reason, he didn't care which one was the case.  
  
Caught up as he was in thought and sensation, Miles didn't even notice the sound of people running towards his bedroom until the door crashed open.  
  
"There he is, men!  _CHARGE!!!_ "  
  
\-----  
  
Franziska had just unlocked the front door of her brother's home when she heard the yell.  _Miles's voice... god, don't let us be too late!_  She rushed forwards at the head of her small company, taking the stairs two at a time, then kicked open the door to her little brother's bedroom with one high-heeled foot.  
  
The sight that met her eyes was terrifying. Her brother stood with his back to the door, blood matted in his hair, head thrown back. A tanned man, dark hair falling over his face like some ghoul from a japanese horror film, was sucking greedily at the red flow of blood dripping from her brother's neck.  
  
A small thrill of pride filled Franziska when she spotted the bandage on the monster's side and the bloody knife on the bedside table. _I knew my brother would put up a fight. Don't worry Miles, the cavalry has arrived._  
  
"There he is, men!  _CHARGE!!!_ "  
  
The vampire released his victim and tried to turn around, but Gumshoe and Butz were on him, grasping an arm each, just like Franziska had instructed. Ema and Hannah, armed with crosses and spray-bottles of holy water, rushed to guard the exits (window and door). Maya waited in reserve with a stake in her hands, her robe's sleeve-pockets filled with garlic.   
  
The vampire was thrashing and even two strong men were having trouble holding him. The creature was about to throw Gumshoe off completely when Franziska came up from behind, her whip encircling the monster's throat like a garotte. She wrenched its head back, provoking a horrible, inhuman scream as the sanctified leather burned into undead flesh.  
  
Then Miss Fey was there, stake raised for the kill, mouth set in a determined line as she swung her arm up to deliver the blow that would destroy the beast, that would set Mr. Wright and Miles free forever.  
  
But the foolish girl completely wasted her opening. She just stared at the vampire, mouth open in shock... and dropped the stake.  
  
"What are you doing you foolish fool!?  _Pick it up!!!"_  

And then Franziska felt hands grip her wrists, yanking the whip up over the monster's head, removing the holy object that was the only thing keeping the monstrosity bound. She turned to face whoever had been so foolish as to put all their lives at risk... and found herself staring into her brother's face.  
  
\----  
  
Phoenix gasped. The burning sensation at his throat was gone and he felt power surging back into his limbs. With a grunt of effort he shook himself, dislodging the attackers from both his arms as he ducked into a crouch. The way to the door was blocked by the smell of garlic, and both the door and window were guarded by crosses—even _looking_  at the symbols made his eyes blur and tear—besides, the window led out into sunlight. So, the vampire did the only thing he could—heroically hide under the bed.  
  
He cowered in the dark, his mind numbed by pain... the only thing he could see was Maya, clutching a stake with a terrifying expression on her face... like she didn't even recognize him.  
  
\----  
  
Miles held Franziska's wrists as she desperately tried to free herself. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wright flee under the bed. 

 _Good. He's safe, for the moment at least.  
_  
"Let go of me, you fool!" Franziska wriggled like an eel, much stronger than she looked. "We're trying to save your life!"  
  
"My life doesn't  _need_ saving, Franziska!" Miles was yelling in her face, desperate to make her understand. The others in the room were quite still, watching the spectacle of the apparent victim chewing out his rescuer with wild abandon. "I was in no danger, it was perfectly consensual! What's  _wrong_ with you, breaking into my house and trying to strangle my guests?!?"  
  
"You  _let_  it bite you? Miles you foolish fool, you were trained to hunt vampires just like I was—you know that monster's a threat to humanity!"  
  
Miles snarled and pushed her away, before reaching under the bed and dragging Wright out by a wrist. "Franziska, take a good look at your 'threat to humanity'."  
  
"Mister...  _Mister Phoenix Wright?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the original, '08 version, Phoenix makes some pretty dumb assumptions for a bi guy, so I fixed things up a touch.
> 
> Now it's more a question of "A guy has to really like women to own 200 volumes of lesbian porn mags". I mean, hell, even for a straight guy/lesbian it's kind of obsessive.


	6. Chapter 6

Phoenix was certain he'd been in more awkward situations, but he couldn't remember any offhand. He was sitting, shirtless and bandaged, in Miles Edgeworth's living room, surrounded by his friends. Friends who had all just tried to kill him.   
  
 _I can smell it on them, they're afraid of me._  He rubbed his finger along the rim of the shot-glass he was holding. Miles had caught the rest of the blood from the bite so as not to waste it, but he didn't really want to drink it with the others watching. _They're all staring at me, like I'm some kind of monster... except for Larry, of course._  
  
Larry—desensitized, perhaps, by a steady diet of B horror films—was asking a rapid-fire stream of questions. "Can you really turn into a bat? Who bit you? Was it a hot vampire chick? Can I meet her? Do you have some kinda special power of hypnosis that can make the ladies fall in love with you? Can you teach  _me_  to do that?"  
  
"Larry..." Phoenix groaned.  
  
"No, wait, if you could hypnotize people, you'd probably be sponging off some rich chick instead of Edgey..."  
  
"Larry—"  
  
"Though, Edgey is pretty loaded—"  
  
" _Larry!_  I can't do stuff like that, OK?" He looked down at his reflection in the liquid. "Being a vampire isn't as glamorous as it looks in  _Dawn of the Dead_  or whatever they're showing on the sci-fi channel these days."  
  
" _Dawn of the Dead_ 's a zombie movie, pal," Gumshoe pointed out.  
  
Phoenix frowned, "I didn't know you watched horror movies."  
  
Maya sighed. "He doesn't need to. Everybody knows at least that much."  
  
W _ell, pardon me for being culturally illiterate!_  He downed the glass of blood in a fit of pique.  
  
"Mister Phoenix Wright?"  
  
He nearly spat the blood across the room from shock as Franziska came up behind him. _I didn't even hear or smell her! How does she **do**  that? _Swallowing and pretending he hadn't been surprised, he looked around at Miles and Franziska. "So, have you decided if you wanted to kill me yet?"  
  
"My little brother has managed to convince me that you're no threat to humanity." Miles rolled his eyes behind her back, but she didn't seem to notice. "However, we have both agreed that it would be for the best if you went back to defense forthwith."  
  
Phoenix made a face, and Maya saw it. "Don't you want to come back, Nick?"  
  
"Of course I do! I just don't like having things dictated to me like I have no choice in the matter-"  
  
Miles sighed and crossed his arms. "Wright, if you clean my bathroom one more time, the tile will deteriorate on a subatomic level. You  _need_  something to do."  
  
"Hey, guys, I think Nick's wasted as a lawyer." Larry's face was lit up like that of a man who'd just had a brilliant idea... or like a nuclear reactor about to go 'boom'. "You're super strong and everything, right? Why not be a superhero!"  
  
The dramatic pronouncement didn't have quite the effect Larry was clearly anticipating. Maya and Ema looked blank, while Miles made a choking noise that could only be induced by the mental image of Phoenix in spandex.   
  
"Larry, to be honest, I prefer practicing law."  _I've already been stabbed once, I don't like the idea of going through that kind of danger as an everyday thing._  
  
Maya clapped her hands together. "Excellent! Now all we have to figure out is how to feed you, Nick!"  
  
Miles's voice echoed Phoenix's puzzlement. "What on earth are you talking about? I'm already feeding him quite adequately—"  
  
Ema interrupted. "It takes the human body eight weeks to replenish the amount of blood taken during a blood draw... and while I doubt you take nearly as much because Mr. Edgeworth isn't bedridden, it is highly doubtful that prosecutor Edgeworth will be able to sustain you on his own for any extended period of time without developing anemia. Therefore, the most prudent thing to do would be for us to take turns making donations."  
  
There was silence for a moment, then everyone spoke up. 

"I'll do it, pal, but only as a favor."

"Anything for a friend, Nick!"

"Guys, count me in! ...It won't hurt, will it?"

"I'll be expecting a raise for this, Mr. Edgeworth."

"Well, if you fools are going to go around foolishly feeding vampires, I suppose I could donate."

"This is a great opportunity for scientific research!"  
  
A warm, fuzzy feeling rose up within Phoenix, caued either by the devotion of his friends or suddenly being faced with a virtual blood buffet. "Thank you so mu-"  
  
"That's it," Miles roared, "out of my house!"


	7. Chapter 7

Suddenly, the troupe of almost-slayers found themselves being tossed unceremoniously from the prosecutor's house. Phoenix was trying to say something, but the door shut with a snap before he could finish, leaving a half-dozen confused people standing around on the front step.  
  
"What the heck was that?" Hannah was looking very confused. "Was it because I asked for a raise?"  
  
Ema looked thoughtful. "Judging from the point at which he interrupted, I would guess that he was more upset at the fact that our offer was about to be accepted... almost like he was jealous."  
  
"Jealous?" Gumshoe looked skeptical to say the least. "You mean, as in...  _boyfriend_  jealous? That's disturbing, pal!"  
  
"No, that's _hot!_ " Maya was grinning.  
  
"That's disturbingly hot." Everyone turned to stare at Larry. He backed up, raising his hands defensively. "Hey, Edgey's pretty androgynous, OK? He looks almost like a chick, so stop looking at me like that!"  
  
"Still, cool as it would be, I really doubt there's anything of the kind going on." Maya sighed.  
  
"Yeah, those two are as straight as they come..."  
  
\----  
  
"What kind of a boyfriend are you?!" Miles's voice was worse than angry—it was cold as ice. "Our relationship officially began about half an hour ago, and you're already sniffing around?"  
  
"Miles, what are you  _talking_  about? I wasn't flirting with the others if that's what you're thinking... I wasn't doing anything wrong!"  
  
"Nothing _wrong_? You think that I want you to go around biting other people? You think I want those fangs in my neck without knowing where they've been?"

Phoenix stared at Miles as though he'd grown an extra head.   
  
 _He's jealous over my **meals**? That's like me freaking out over him eating a ham sandwich... a human ham sandwich that requires partial nudity to eat... and now that I think about it, practically the first thing I did after confessing to Miles was bite him...  
  
...Oh, god...  
_  
"Miles, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I promise, I won't go biting anyone else." Miles visibly relaxed, and made no move to resist as Phoenix put his arms around him and kissed his neck. "Honestly, I doubt you'll go anemic on me anyway."  
  
Miles stiffened, and Phoenix's sensitive nose was suddenly assaulted by the smell of fear.   
  
"Of course not, Wright."  _A lie._  
  
Phoenix pulled back and took a good look at his boyfriend. Miles looked tired, with deep circles under his eyes. His skin was even paler than usual, and there were large red marks on the left side of his neck.  _He looks more like a vampire than I do... Well, he looks like a vampire most of the time with that cravat, but something's not right._  
  
"Miles, what's wrong?" Miles opened his mouth, but Phoenix cut him off. "And don't lie, I can smell it and it's beneath you."  
  
Miles looked down, gripping one forearm in a protective gesture. "I—Miss Skye was right... I'm becoming anemic." He looked up at the open-mouthed Phoenix. "I saw a physician yesterday, but I didn't want you to worry—"  
  
" _Worry!?_ "  
  
\-----  
  
Wright was staring at him, mouth open in shock, fangs blatantly obvious. When he interrupted Miles, his voice seemed to squeak, as though he'd forgotten how to use his vocal chords.  _Aaaaaaand here come the recriminations. I hate this part._  
  
"You didn't want me to  _worry!?_  I'm  _killing_  you, and you—do you have any sense of perspective? Of self-preservation, perhaps??" Wright was yelling now, his voice still firmly ensconced in the soprano register. He also seemed to have no intention of stopping there, as though a dam were being torn down. "You _know_ you're in trouble, and when we try to take measures to _save_ you, you _kick_ the others _out_ and elicit some cockamamy promise out of me?  _And_  you didn't even tell me you were a vampire hunter! What kind of—and another thing!" Wright seemed to be having trouble finishing sentences now. "Why on earth did you lose to those muggers when you were trained to take out guys like me?"  
  
Miles quirked an eyebrow. "Pardon me if my lessons in proper garlic application wouldn't have proved useful against common thugs. Are you done admonishing me?"  
  
" _NO!_  Not unless you stop this ridiculous... ridiculousness..." Wright trailed off, apparently out of steam.  
  
"You sound like Franziska." Miles sighed. "Listen, I have no intention of letting you go gallivanting about nibbling on my secretary or my sister or anyone else, for that matter."  
  
"And I have no intention of letting you kill yourself though blood loss and lack of sleep!" Phoenix shot back.  
  
They stood there for long moments, glaring at each other. Neither one was willing to turn his eyes away, to back down or show any sign of weakness. It wasn't until Wright's eyes lit up and he suddenly surged forward that miles even let himself blink.  
  
"Wright, what on earth?" The man grasped Miles's wrist, shaking it before his eyes.   
  
"What if I don't drink from the neck? There's big veins in the wrist, after all!" Wright looked positively pleased with himself, and Miles had to admit that he'd had a point. "I can feed off other people with no reason for you to get jealous!"  
  
"I'm not jealous!"  
  
Wright rolled his eyes. He did not, however, let go of Miles's wrist. "Do we have a deal, Miles?"  
  
Sighing, the prosecutor nodded. Wright broke out in a toothy grin. "Excellent! Now, there's just one last thing we need to take care of!" With that, he grasped Miles's wrist with both hands and dragged him up the stairs.   
  
It took Miles a few seconds to start running... because it was either that or be dragged. 

 

 _God, he's strong! And what on Earth is this about, anyway?_ His eyes widened as they burst through the bedroom door. Wright tossed him onto the bed as though he weighed no more than a loaf of bread, provoking a sound out of Miles that, coming out of anyone else's mouth, would be best described as a squawk.  
  
 _Oh my god he can't be serious! I had my first **kiss**  this afternoon for goodness sakes! And now he wants to—this is going way too fa—_  
  
His train of thought was cut short when Wright tossed something onto his bare chest.  
  
Pink. Silk.  
  
His pajamas.  
  
"It's been a stressful day and you need sleep. You've been overworking yourself far too much as it is." With that, Wright turned and walked out of the room.   
  
Miles stared after the vampire, dumbfounded.  _Should I be relieved or disappointed?_ He shrugged, letting a small smile flit across his face, then shrugged on the pajama top.  _Oh, well. At least everything has worked out and life can get back to normal... Or as normal as it gets._  
  
Miles Edgeworth had never been so wrong in his life.


	8. Chapter 8

"Wright, where are all these questions coming from?" Miles was trying to juggle a crepe pan, an electric kettle, and one extremely curious defense attorney.  
  
Phoenix finally took pity on him and took over heating the Irish Breakfast. He did not, however, cease his questioning. "Miles, come  _on_ , you can at least tell me  _how_  you were trained to hunt vampires!"  
  
"To be honest, Wright, I was only taught self-defense, not true hunting. I can't sense vampires, I don't have the blood for it—but I was living with vampire hunters and so I was vulnerable until I learned to protect myself."  
  
"How?" The kettle started singing, and Phoenix poured a single cup for Miles, none for himself. He'd discovered a while ago that regular food didn't tempt him anymore.  
  
Miles was having trouble with getting the thin french pancakes onto a plate. "Rapier," he grunted.  
  
"You did  _what_  to the vampires?"  
  
Miles turned to glare at him. "A kind of sword, you nitwit! Get your mind out of the gutter!"  
  
"Sor-ry!" Phoenix shut up for a minute as he thought of another question. "So, what's it called, this rapper of yours? I mean, every sword needs a name, right?"  
  
" _Rapier,_  Wright, not rapper. As for the name-" He grabbed up his plate and tea. "It's called  _Kugelschreiber_."  
  
"Koo... Kuu... Isn't that a bit long?" Phoenix went to lean against the table as Miles sat.   
  
"It's got the same number of syllables as 'Excalibur', so no, it's not long. It's German for pen."  
  
"As in 'mightier than the sword', you mean?" Phoenix grinned as Miles nodded. "My god, that's cliché!"  
  
"Says the man whose name is a pun. Don't you have work to go to?"  
  
"Only if you drive me. I can't walk around in daylight, remember?"  
  
Miles smirked, finishing off his crepe. "All right, but I plan to stay late in the office, so don't expect a ride home."  
  
\----  
  
 _'Staying late in the office' doesn't even cover it!_  Phoenix sat in the living room, trying to wrap his mind around why on earth the other man was still out at 11 PM. Even Miles Edgeworth wasn't that much of a workaholic.

Phoenix had walked back to the house after sunset (he wasn't ready to call it his 'home' just yet) and waited, cleaning the bathroom and sniffing all of Miles's tea blends... but that had only taken up so much time, and now Phoenix was worried.  
  
Picking up his cell phone, he dialed the other man's number. It rang for a long time before it picked up.

"Yes? Who's there?" Miles's voice sounded slightly strained.  
  
"Miles, it's me. Are you all right?"  
  
"Oh Phoenix, dear, it's you! And no, of course not."   
  
Phonix stared at the phone in his hand.  _Phoenix? **Dear?**_ The voice definitely belonged to Miles, but the words he was saying...   
  
"Miles, is something wrong?"  
  
"Yes." The intonations of his voice didn't match the context, somehow... as though he were agreeing to something positive. "Listen, love, why don't you come down here? I need your help on a case... and by the way? Can you bring my pen?"  
  
"Your pen?" Now he was thoroughly confused.  
  
"Yes, my lucky one? The one that I need to put together a killer case?" A pause. "Sorry, Nick, I have to go. I'll meet you in the parking garage at the prosecutor's office, all right?"  
  
"Wait! Miles, what do you mean by—" There was no reply. The caller had already hung up and he was talking to dead air.  
  
\-----  
  
Miles heard the snap of the phone closing next to his ear.  _God, Wright, I hope you got the message... Now all I have to do is stay alive until he gets here._  
  
"Well, he's served his purpose, I say we dispose of him." The cold voice belonged to a woman draped in a black shawl, smoking an elegant golden pipe.  
  
"Nonsense, Deevee!" The large man with white-streaked hair chuckled from the doorway. "Worthy here isn't just a means to an end, you know... He's as responsible for what happened to us as Wrighto is, after all."  
  
"Yes." That voice was the coldest, and by far the most familiar. Miles didn't need to turn his head to see who the voice belonged to; he already knew who it was that stood behind the chair he was tied to. "Don't be so selfish, Miss Vasquez. Remember who got you out of prison?"  
  
Dee Vasquez sniffed and took a long drag from her pipe. "Men. I'll never understand your obsession with cat-and-mouse games."  
  
"The results will be the same, just slightly delayed..." Von Karma walked into Miles's vision, his lip curled in disdain. "Still, I would never have thought you would sink to these depths, boy. A homosexual... with a defense attorney, no less? That simply proves that you were never worthy of the von Karma legacy—just your father's failure and a death in the dark."  
  
 _I will not be baited, I WILL NOT!_  Miles leaned back in the chair, feigning nonchalance. "Oh, really? What about your daughter, hmm?"  
  
Von Karma made a movement that might've been a flinch. "What do you mean by that?"  
  
"Franziska is currently dating a young woman... blonde, pretty, kind, I'm sure you'd hate her immensely."  
  
"You..." Von Karma's fists were clenched, his teeth as well.  _Oh, I struck a nerve, did I?_  
  
"They're very happy together, I hear." He was pushing it, but he didn't care. It felt good to watch von Karma squirm, that damnable man who'd murdered his father and twisted Miles himself; the homophobe who'd forced Miles to keep his sexuality a secret for fifteen long years. "Two out of three children gay—what does it say about  _you_ , I wonder?"  
  
" _Objection!_  You can't expect to crack my composure with this kind of baseless blathering."  
  
"Oh? I have evidence in my wallet. A picture of the happy couple-"  
  
"Meine Tochter ist keine  _Lesbe!_ " Von Karma leaped for him, fangs bared in a predatory snarl. Gant caught him only at the last instant, the vampire's teeth snapping together an inch from Miles's nose.   
  
 _Wright's right, I have lost all sense of self-preservation..._  
  
"Now, now, Manny. Wasn't it you who wanted to keep Worthy here alive? If he dies quickly, where's the sport?"  
  
Von Karma nodded curtly after a moment, then brushed Gant's hands off of him. Sliding on Miles's trenchcoat (a new one, after the adventure with the switchblade), von Karma headed out of the door of the parking garage security hut.  
  
Turning, he faced Miles, his face once more composed. "I'm sure you remember this tactic, Edgeworth. Wait, now... while I bring your _boyfriend_ to see you. I'm sure this will be reunion to remember."  
  
Miles winced as Vasquez replaced the gag around his mouth, tied cruelly tight.  _For those of us who survive it..._  
  
\-----  
  
Phoenix was panting as he reached the top floor of the parking garage, and even then, twenty long minutes had passed since the mysterious phone call. The lights were off as he entered the concrete building, only the little strip lights at the edges of the roadbed provided any illumination.  
  
"Miles, there you are!" A pale-haired figure stepped out from behind one of the concrete columns, walking towards him with long strides. When he reached Phoenix, the figure opened his arms in an embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend tells me that Von Karma's lines mean "Bastard! My daughter is not a lesbian!"


	9. Chapter 9

Phoenix lunged, drawing the sword from where it hung at his side. Only superhuman reflexes saved von Karma from being spitted like a shishkabob. As it was, the front of the trenchcoat was opened from side to side as he spun out of the way of the thrust.  
  
"Not bad, boy." Von Karma was smiling, cold and humorless. "How did you know?"  
  
Phoenix snorted. "You were hoping to use that coat to mask your scent, weren't you? Too bad he just bought it..." Though his voice was calm, he was trying not to sweat and his hands were shaking. It wasn't just fear... the sword was hard to hold.   
  
It had taken him precious minutes to locate it, and the only reason he'd been able to do so was by following the faint hint of uneasiness it gave off from where it was secreted in the broom cupboard. He'd had to put on thick gloves before he could even touch the thing—it reacted to his presence by emitting a faint hum—and it was _screaming_ now that it had actually been drawn with so many vampires in the vicinity.  
  
"You want to fight, boy?" There was a sneer in von Karma's voice. Grasping his walking stick in both hands, he slowly pulled the blade of the sword-cane free of its wooden sheath.   
  
"Well, then," he smirked as he slid, catlike, into a stance. " _Engarde!_ "  
  
\-----  
  
Miles, forced to watch though the window of the security hutch, saw the two vampires begin their deadly dance of thrust and parry... and it was clear that Wright was completely outmatched. While they were roughly eaqual for height and weight, both enhanced with vampiric speed and strength, von Karma had been the one to teach Miles how to use the sword; as in all things, he hadn't accepted anything less than perfection from his pupil or from himself. Compared to von Karma's mastery, Wright was worse than an amateur—he was a complete disaster.  
  
 _Wright, what on earth are you doing?!? You **stab**  with a rapier, you don't slash! _But that was  _exactly_  what Wright was doing, wielding the blade two-handed in wide, clumsy swings. The only thing that kept the fight from being over in two seconds was the sword itself. Quenched in holy water after its forging, edged with silver and tipped with six inches of polished wood at the end of the blade,  _Kugelschreiber_ would burn a vampire from the slightest touch on bare skin.  
  
In the end, it wasn't enough. Von Karma ducked under one of Wright's clumsy swings, slamming the hilt of his blade into the pit of the attorney's stomach. Wright went down, and the next second von Karma's blade flashed up and down, spearing Phoenix through the leg and causing him to scream in pain.  
  
Von Karma reached down and hauled Wright up, still impaled by the sword blade. "Pathetic. You are probably the most pathetic scion a vampire has ever created... It is rather difficult to believe that my blood runs through your veins. Still, you should be good for something..."

Bringing one finger to his lips, von Karma drew it across one fang until blood dripped down to his palm. Forcing the digit between Wright's lips, he intoned, "Blood of my blood, sanguine son, I claim the life I made. Walk, but with my will, and serve thy sire even unto death."  
  
Wright spasmed, his arms flailing and mouth opening wide in a silent scream. Von Karma dropped him and watched him thrash about on the floor for several terrible moments. Finally, Phoenix stopped flailing, lying spread-eagled on the concrete.   
  
"Get up." Von Karma watched with a hungry look in his eyes while Wright rose to his feet, apparently mindless of the sword still in his leg. It was von Karma who extracted the weapon, sheathing it once more.  
  
"It looks like your knight in shining armor has joined the bad guys, doesn't it, Worthy?" Gant was laughing as he pulled Miles's chair away from the window, then ripped the ropes off the prosecutor as though he were breaking spiderwebs. Vasquez removed the gag, muttering something about pointless theatrics, then shoved him through the doorway and into the open space.   
  
Von Karma looked at Miles, a horribly cruel smile on his face. "Miles Edgeworth, I give you a choice: you can try to get past your lover, get  _Kugelschreiber_  in your hands and destroy him, getting his blood on your hands... or you can let yourself become like him, a slave for all eternity. Choose quickly,  _boy_."  
  
Turning, he walked back to Vaquez and Gant, before giving the command. "Wright, turn him!"


	10. Chapter 10

_If there was one thing he knew about vampires, it was that they loved prisons. His late Daciana had said that vampires sometimes got themselves convicted of crimes, just to get into places where the meat had nowhere to run. People died in prison scuffles all the time, and who was to care if a man shivved in the ribs also had marks on his neck?  
  
Von Karma's mind had been working ever since he stepped out of the police transport. He kept his eyes open, watched for the signs, and avoided dropping the soap at all costs. Eventually, over a year after his conviction, a man came to death row who neither slept nor ate the food, a man who had a reputation for brutality amongst the prisoners. Manfred's ticket to freedom.  
  
He had never shared his late wife's hatred for the undead; he almost admired them for their ruthless efficiency and near-immortality. Of course, becoming a vampire meant relinquishing his soul... but he had never had much use for  **that** , anyway.  
  
Convincing the vampire to turn him was easy and finding allies within the prison was easier still. Gant was an old ally—and an obvious choice—while Dee Vasquez had a cold cunning that would prove useful... as well as a common goal: the absolute destruction of Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth.  
  
Once he had sired the others as vampires, Manfred found breaking out of the prison to be child's play—prison bars bent under their strength, bullets from the guards meant nothing—and they fled into the night, drunk on thoughts of vengeance.  
  
However, opportunities for revenge were not immediately forthcoming. Discovering themselves unable to enter Wright's or Edgeworth's homes without permission and unable to stalk them by daylight, it was a long wait before von Karma finally caught the defense attorney out at night investigating a case. The fool never knew what hit him, bitten from behind in a dark alley and forced to drink the blood from Manfred's wrist while half-unconscious.   
  
Gant had approved letting him go and then watching and waiting, but Vasquez had been skeptical. She had wanted them both dead or turned immediately... but it was no problem, von Karma had insisted, the boy was a vampire now. Nobody could be turned and still retain any sense of morality... let them kill each other and then the survivor would be easy prey.  
  
Easy prey... a month of waiting, discovering that Wright was back at his office, a vampire working as a defense attorney and apparently living at Edgeworth's house. Furious recriminations, a quickly devised plan—a "late meeting" and a bottle of chloroform. He was back in control of the situation.  
  
The curse of the Edgeworths at an end...  
  
Forced to kill or be killed...  
  
Oh, revenge is sweet indeed._  
  
\-----  
  
"Wright, please! Recognize me!"  
  
The vampire didn't seem to hear him, lunging forward with jaws wide open. He stumbled, however, on his bad leg, and Miles was able to dodge out of the way. Wright spun, following Miles's progress with narrowed eyes.  
  
 _Is Wright still even in there? His eyes... he doesn't know who I am?_ He looked at the vampire, then over at his sword lying on the asphalt.  _If only I could break von Karma's control somehow... Perhaps..._ Steeling himself, he lunged across the dark garage floor, grasping for the hilt—  
  
He grabbed the weapon, rolling over onto his back and trying to bring it up—  
  
No time, Wright was literally on top of him, grasping Miles's sword arm in a powerful grip and forcing it away. The other hand seized him by his silver hair, pulling his head to the side. Slowly, inexorably, the fangs moved towards his neck. A shudder passed though his body, but whether it came from Miles or from the monster Wright had become, the prosecutor couldn't tell.  
  
"Miles..." The whisper was low and hoarse, barely a centimeter from his ear. " _Scream!_ "


	11. Chapter 11

"Somehow, I always expected Worthy to go out with a bit more dignity." Gant was wincing at the prosecutor's piercing yells.  
  
"Dignity?" Vasquez twirled her pipe between her fingers. "You obviously weren't at my trial. Isn't that screaming going to attract some attention?"  
  
"That was the first reason we killed the guards, Miss Vasquez. Nobody else is in the office at this hour, and the sound of traffic will drown out anything heard outside." von Karma was intent on the scene in front of him, obviously enjoying his revenge.  
  
Gant was playing with his hair as he watched the prosecutor scrabble at the defense attorney's head with his free hand, trying to drag him off while the vampire fed. "Does watching this make you hungry, Manny?"  
  
"That's the other reason we killed the guards. Now be silent and watch!"  
  
\-----  
  
Miles felt the lips on his neck curve into a smile, and he almost stopped screaming from relief.  _Thank god, they're buying it... Wright, you are a mad genius!_  
  
Admittedly, he had no idea how Wright was still in apparent possession of his willpower. All he knew was that, instead of biting him, Wright had simply pressed his lips to Miles's neck and held himself there, making exaggerated sucking noises as Miles screamed his lungs out in falsified pain. Wright had even gone so far as to bite his own lip to create a realistic dribble of red flowing from the corner of his mouth.  
  
Finally, when he felt his lungs were about to explode, Wright's lips moved, forming words against his skin. " _Play dead_."  
  
\-----  
  
Miles gave a sudden convulsion, then lay limp on the asphalt. Phoenix grasped him by the lapels, scrambling to his feet and bringing the lifeless body to eye level.  
  
"Go on, Wright, finish the job." von Karma's voice was eager.  
  
 _Oh, I will._  Miles gave him the tiniest perceptible wink, tightening his grip on the sword hanging 'limply' from his hand.  
  
Phoenix turned and  _hurled_  Miles at von Karma with all the force he could muster. The prosecutor plunged through the air like some kind of burgundy javelin, sword point headed straight for his former mentor's heart.  
  
Once again, however, von Karma's superior reflexes saved him. At the last second, he grabbed Dee Vasquez by the shoulder and dragged her in front of him like a shield.   
  
A second piercing scream filled the parking garage as the pipe clattered to the ground, surrounded by a shower of ashes which was all that remained of the blackmailing ex-producer.  
  
Miles landed in a crouch at von Karma's feet, but he was not about to pass up his advantage. He surged upwards, forcing the vampire backwards with a series of quick thrusts. It took von Karma precious seconds to draw his blade, and even then, the older man was kept on the defensive.  
  
Phoenix was abruptly snapped out of his admiration of the swordplay,  _God, they're **fast!**_ , by Damon Gant hurtling at him like a charging buffalo.  
  
Unlike the other combat, which was causing the sound of steel on steel to ring throughout the structure, this fight was far from elegant. The former chief of police was a brawler, and the contest proved to be a brief match of brute strength.  
  
Phoenix was strong, but Gant was taller, with far more muscle mass. He grabbed Phoenix by the upper arms, slamming him back against the wall with such force that dust filled the air from the pulverized concrete.   
  
Gant grinned, showing his fangs as he seized Phoenix by the throat, holding him up with his feet dangling six inches above the ground. "Sorry it had to turn out like this, Wrighto. No hard feelings?"  
  
Phoenix's reply was to reach into his pocket, pulling out a chopstick with a carefully sharpened tip, and ramming it as hard as he could into Gant's chest. Gant's face barely had time to register a look of complete shock before it dissolved into flakes of fluttering ash. Phoenix fell to the ground, covered in dust and still clutching his chopstick.   
  
"Hard feelings? No, not really..." He tried to scramble to his feet, but his injured leg didn't seem to want to obey him anymore and, judging from the pain in his abdomen, he had at least one cracked rib.   
  
 _Sorry, Miles... You're on your own_. He thought as he slumped against the concrete wall, fighting to stave off the darkness gathering as the edges of his vision.  
  
\-----  
  
 _Beat-parry-ripposette-thrust-lunge-recover-thrust-parry-thrust-_  There was no time to think, no time to look at Wright or anything else. Von Karma was fast, too fast... but then, so was Miles.   
  
The match was rapid and merciless, with no fancy strokes or showing off. If Miles had had time, he would have to be glad that von Karma had spent a year in prison with no chance to practice. The difference in muscle memory and skill, as well as  _Kugelschreiber_ 's particular deadly properties, were all that offset his opponent's greatly increased strength and speed.  
  
They disengaged simultaneously, each taking a few steps backward and returning to the guard position. Miles was panting from the exertion, blood dripping from a cut on his cheek, while von Karma had a shallow, smoking wound on his chest.  
  
"Tired, Edgeworth? Do you want me to sing you to sleep? After all..." He jerked his head to the side with a cold smile, "Your lover is already out cold."  
  
Miles's eyes flickered to the side, before returning to his opponent. _He hasn't turned to dust, so he's still alive... hold on, while I finish this!_ He looked over at von Karma, trying to fix his face in a look of cool unconcern. "Nevertheless, he looks far better off than  _your_ lover."  
  
For once in his life, Manfred von Karma looked completely blank. "What on earth are you babbling abou-"  
  
"Damon Gant, dead and dusted. I honestly feel sorry for you,  _Manny_. I mean, he gave you such a cute nickname, you must have been close." Miles was beyond angry, beyond scared... he felt as though he had turned into a coldly smiling facsimile of himself, a sculpture of ice and steel. He had never expected to be in a situation where he was  _taunting_ von Karma, but he knew exactly which buttons to push. The man wasn't gay, not by a long shot, but the mere implication was sure to make him lose his composure.  
  
"You-" The older man was pale with rage, but Miles kept talking.  
  
"Of course, it must have been tough for him, having to settle for a failure like you. Your perfect record ruined, all that lying and cheating for nothing, you must have been quite the wreck in prison. I assume he topp—"  
  
That did it. With what sounded almost like a roar, von Karma flung himself forward in a barely controlled flying lunge. Miles parried the blow easily, smiling like a cat. There were several mistakes that could prove the most deadly in fencing: holding the sword by the wrong end, dropping it, and getting angry. Stung by the insults, von Karma's speed and precision had both dropped, and he stated leaving holes in his guard.   
  
Miles whipped his blade around and switched to the offense, driving the other man backwards across the open space. Von Karma backed up, step after step towards the wall. Miles was almost ready to cry out in triumph, when von Karma suddenly broke to the side, grasping the semi-comatose Phoenix Wright by the collar and hoisting him up like a human shield, swordpoint pressed to his temple.  
  
"Don't move, boy! Even a vampire dies if his brain is damaged, and, if I apply the  _slightest_ pressure—"  
  
"PUT HIM DOWN!" Miles yelled, wildly, but von Karma only grinned.  
  
"Not until you drop your sword."  
  
\----  
  
The clatter of steel on stone brought Phoenix groggily to his senses. He felt a cravat tickling the back of his neck.  _Miles?_  He opened his eyes. No, Miles was standing in front of him, looking pale and anxious, sword at his feet. There was something sharp pressed against his head...  _Oh no, von Karma!_  
  
"Ah, so you're awake." Von Karma released Phoenix's collar, allowing him to stand (if unsteadily) on his own, but not budging the sword an inch from where it rested. With his now free hand, the former prosecutor reached into Phoenix's jacket pocket, drawing out the Magatama.  
  
"A Spirit Medium's channeling anchor..." The older vampire spoke almost to himself. "A safety net to keep the soul in place if a spirit gets out of hand... and the reason my Enthrallment was unsuccessful. Still, that can be easily remedied..."  
  
He clenched his hand around the small jade pendant, and crushed it into sparkling green dust.


	12. Chapter 12

For Phoenix, it felt as if he had suddenly found himself standing at the edge of a cliff—he  _felt_  the magatama's protection vanish. Von Karma was speaking, his words unclear past the roaring in Phoenix's ears. He did, however, see Miles's eyes frantically flicking from his sword (lying on the ground) to Phoenix, and he could feel von Karma was once more pressing a bloodstained finger to his lips.  
  
 _Miles can't get to me in time..._ He kept his mouth sealed tightly shut, the effort of keeping it closed causing his jaw to ache. The other vampire was strong and both of them knew that only a few drops would do it, so keeping his mouth tightly closed was imperative. He tried to think of something, anything...  
  
 _...chopsticks came in pairs!_  
  
Reaching into his other pocket, he pulled out the second utensil and stabbed it, as hard as he could, into von Karma's sword hand. The former prosecutor screamed an dropped his weapon while Phoenix half stumbled, half fell away.

Von Karma turned and ran towards the exit.  
  
Phoenix had expected that Miles would grab up his weapon and follow, but instead the magenta-clad prosecutor was kneeling at his side, peering at him with a look of genuine concern on his pale face.   
  
"Wright, are you—"  
  
"I'm still me, yeah. I'm going to need a new magatama, though." He grinned hazily at the other man. "You were amazing, Miles! Being a hero suits you!"  
  
Miles colored slightly. "Well, you weren't exactly a disaster, yourself. Though I wish you had used weaponry other than my tableware... what was that?"  
  
A sound was coming from the stairwell, feet clattering on metal steps.  _Von Karma?_  
  
Miles was clearly thinking the same thing, as he leaned down and snatched up his sword, pointing it at the door. The footsteps came closer and closer—  
  
It was a security guard, carrying a coffee and looking very surprised. His eyes darted from Miles, with his sword and cut cheek, to Phoenix, limping and with blood coming from the corner of his mouth, to the general area, the dropped sword, the dent in the concrete wall and the spatters of blood. He pulled out his pistol.  
  
"You two are under arrest."  
  
\-----  
  
For a while, they had been considered suspects in the mysterious deaths of the two guards their replacement had found stuffed in the back of the security shed. It wasn't until the fingerprints of Manfred von Karma, the escaped convict, were confirmed on the grip of the sword-cane, that the two lawyers were released from custody. By then, it was nearly dawn.   
  
Miles was tired—exhausted, really—but he felt that he could not rest easy until Wright was once more under a magatama's protection. Ever since the ornament had been destroyed, Wright had been twitchy.  
  
Hence, the reason Miles was currently berating Detective Gumshoe.   
  
"What do you mean, my car is evidence?" His voice was even colder than usual, if possible.  
  
"It was parked right near where the murders occured, pal. And, given its history... orders from higher up, I can't do a thing, pal!" He had that irritating 'please don't dock my pay' face on, too.  
  
"You do not seem to understand, Detective. Wright needs to get to Kurain village, immediately!"  
  
Gumshoe leaned in conspiratorially. "Is it a va—a you-know-what thing?"  
  
Miles sighed. "Yes."  
  
Gumshoe's face lit up. "Don't worry pal! I can drive you, we'll be there faster than instant ramen!"  
  
\----  
  
"I am never riding in a car with Gumshoe driving as long as I live." Wright shuddered as he sat in the spare room at the back of Kurain's temple.

Miles was stretched out on a futon next to him, tired after staying up all night but refusing to go to sleep until Maya had finished preparing a new magatama. She had grumbled at first (they had gotten her out of bed at the crack of dawn, after all) but once she had understood the situation, nothing would do but for her to whip up the strongest anchoring spells she could find... which would take a while.

  
They were silent for a while, both lost in thought, until Wright said, suddenly, "There was one good thing about tonight."  
  
Miles shook himself out of his half doze and turned to the vampire. "What was that? Watching my exceptional swordplay?"  
  
Wright gave Miles a faint smile. "Actually, it was hearing you use my first name... though you do look sexy when you're raiping."  
  
"When I'm—Wright, the term is _fencing_!" He shook his head at the other man's incredible stupidity, and hitched himself up on one elbow.  
  
"Alright, but I meant what I said about my first name." Miles balked and Wright rolled his eyes. "Come on, Miles. We're  _living together_ , and don't play the 'we're not involved' card, because we _are_." He leaned down and caressed the other man's cheek. "Miles, you owe me."  
  
"Are you sure, Wright? I, for one, have lost track of who owes whom.” Wright’s hand was a little warmer than usual, brushing against his skin.  
  
“Then, why don’t you just use my given name and we’ll call it even?” Miles quirked an eyebrow at him, and he grinned, answering the unasked question. “I know, not in public… The tabloids would have a field day. “  
  
Miles exhaled a put-upon sigh. “All right, Wr—Phoenix… but only in private.”  
  
“My friends call me Nick, you know.”  
  
“Don’t push your luck. Anyway…” He smirked, slightly. “Isn’t this the part where you’re supposed to fling yourself at me in a fit of gratitude?”  
  
Phoenix didn’t need telling twice, grasping the other man’s cravat and pulling him into a passionate kiss. The vampire’s tongue was on his lips, easing them open, and Miles parted them the rest of the way in invitation. He let one hand filter through Phoenix’s spikes while the other held him up, propped against the floor. Phoenix was leaning over him, kissing him senseless, breathless.  
  
 _My god, if using his first name brings on this kind of reaction, what would happen if I called him by his nickname?_  
  
Phoenix's mouth left his, suddenly, moving from his cheek, across to his ear, then down to his neck. His hands were also roaming, holding, stroking Miles's hair, his cheeks, his back, his chest. Miles was fervently reciprocating, kissing every inch of the other man he could reach. That day, the danger, their lives resting on a knife blade—he needed so desperately to remind himself that he was alive.  
  
And then his lips were on the other man's, his tongue doing the delving, the exploring, being careful of the sharp canines. He'd expected a vampire to taste like blood, but Phoenix's mouth had its own flavour, almost like—  
  
“Hey, pal, we got the maga—Oh my…” Gumshoe. Maya. Standing in the doorway, watching him frenching a defense attorney—Miles choked, half falling over as Phoenix released his hold.  
  
\-----  
  
Maya looked from Nick’s fiery blush to the pale face of the toppled prosecutor and broke into a grin. “Sorry to interrupt, we’ll come back later!”  
  
She grabbed Gumeshoe’s arm, yanking him out of the room and snapping the sliding door shut. The detective looked at her, his mouth working for a full minute before he could speak. “I-I think… we both owe Hannah ten bucks.”  
  
“Yeah.” Maya nodded, then shot Gumshoe a cunning look. “I also think you owe  _me_ the same amount.”  
  
“No way, pal. It’s  _your_  boss that’s walking funny, not mine!”


End file.
